But U2's approach to "The Joshua Tree" on the 30th anniversary tour that made its way to University of Phoenix Stadium in Glendale on Sept. 19 was less about nostalgia (although there was clearly an element of that for the fans who attended) as it was about examining the themes expressed so eloquently on that album as a living, breathing document – a work in progress that still resonates because, in part, outside, it's still America.

In an interview with Rolling Stone early this year, the Edge compared the political climate in America in the Age of Trump to the troubles of the Reagan-Thatcher era and said, "It feels like we're right back there in a way. I don't think any of our work has ever come full circle to that extent. It just felt like, 'Wow, these songs have a new meaning and a new resonance today that they didn't have three years ago, four years ago'."

And as Bono explained onstage in Glendale while welcoming fans to Side 2 of the album, which may have developed a few more cracks and hisses in the vinyl, "Time has helped us to understand some of these songs that we wrote and played and recorded back then. Some songs have changed in their meaning and some have not. This has not. This is about how a landscape can change in a person, in a country, in a town, when you're not looking, but how we have to stay awake to dream. It's called God's country."

"The Joshua Tree," at its core, is an album of coming to terms with the frustrating contrast between the often harsh realities of what "liberty and justice for all" have come to look like in America and the loftier Utopian ideals on which this country was supposed to have been formed.

The American Dream was a running theme in Tuesday's concert – a dream that "so many of us are waiting to wake up in," as Bono was moved to acknowledge during a stirring rendition of "Pride (in the Name of Love)" that ended with the words to Martin Luther King, Jr.'s "I Have a Dream" speech projected on the massive screen behind him,

“"Wasn't this country built by dreamers for dreamers?"”

Bono, U2

Coming out of "In God's Country," Bono asked, "Wasn't this country built by dreamers for dreamers?," connecting the dots between the American Dream and the Dreamers of D.A.C.A. Then, he lightened the mood with a self-effacing, "It may not have been built for Irishmen who cannot play the harmonica" as they kicked into "Trip Through Your Wires."

His harmonica playing, it turns out, was great.

But the fact that Bono is an Irishman will no doubt lead to many in the "Shut Up and Play Your Harmonica" camp dismissing his unwavering belief that "one day," as a wise man once suggested, "this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: 'We hold these truths to be self evident: that all men are created equal'" as unwanted advice from an Irishman who doesn't have to come in here and take our money if he doesn't like the way we treat our huddled masses yearning to be free.

And those who stayed away from Tuesday's show because they didn't want to hear that kind of talk? They missed out on a truly inspirational performance of a classic album in a show that celebrated what it means to be American as much as it suggested that we could – and should and must – do better.

During "Pride (In the Name of Love)," one of four early songs U2 played on a sparse little stage at the end of the catwalk before diving into "The Joshua Tree," Bono said, "From the left, from the right and those in between, we are all welcome here tonight."

And although “Exit” was preceded by a 1950s TV clip in which a smooth-talking con man named Walter Trump rides into town and warns the citizens of that community that only he can save them from certain disaster by building a wall, that was it for the Trump-bashing, really.

And it was a lighthearted jab.

There's no mistaking the tone of this concert for the brutal, unrelenting Trump attacks of Roger Waters' latest tour.

This was a show about making America great again by letting America be America again, as Langston Hughes suggested in one of the thought-provoking poems that scrolled across the screen before they even took the stage.

And it rocked – with passion – from the moment Larry Mullen Jr. strolled onstage, sat down behind the kit and kicked into the martial beat of "Sunday Bloody Sunday," a song inspired by the Troubles, as the natives call the Northern Ireland conflict, its opening verse still depressingly relevant 34 years later.

"I can't believe the news today," Bono began in a suitably weary voice. "Oh, I can't close my eyes and make it go away / How long? How long must we sing this song?"

With that, the stage was set for a show whose highlights ranged from that opening salvo of early material ("Sunday Bloody Sunday," "New Year's Day," "Bad" and an anthemic "Pride (In the Name of Love)") to "Miss Sarajevo" and "Ultraviolet (Light My Way)."

Of course, at the heart of the set was the album they'd come to not just celebrate but re-examine through a new lens with a fresh perspective. And it came alive with style and substance.

The Edge's guitar work on "Bullet the Blue Sky" was electrifying while the rhythm section of Mullen and bassist Adam Clayton did their best to guarantee that every track was delivered for maximum impact. And Bono's voice can still bring chills, especially when delivering a line as powerful as "Free at last, they took your life / They could not take your pride."

“"We all have a stake in this beautiful idea of America. And we all have a responsibility to work for that promise. There's nothing this country cannot do when you work together as one."”

Bono, U2

Visually, the concert lived up the spectacle of past U2 experiences with the shape of a Joshua Tree emblazoned on a curving 200-by-45-foot screen that was flooded with a blend on live performance shots and scenes from the desert as filmed by Anton Corbijn, the man responsible for the iconic 1987 album art.

The cruising racing down the desert highway to accompany and underscore the momentum of "Where the Streets Have No Name" proved an exhilarating introduction to the live performance of the album. Likewise, the footage of Latin American individuals donning soldier's helmets with standing in front of a building with an American flag painted on its wall served as a haunting backdrop to "Bullet the Blue Sky." And "Mothers of the Disappeared" brought "The Joshua Tree" tree to a close with a film of a candlelit vigil in honor of the young Chilean victims of Augusto Pinochet.

Before bringing the night to a close with a rousing rendition of "One," Bono spoke, one last time, of America, that magnificent bastard of a muse, as "a country we love, a country we call a second home" and a country whose generosity he and his bandmates do not wish to take for granted.

"But it's not just a country, is it?," he continued. "It's also an idea. It's a great idea. It's one of the best ideas ever. But it's an idea that needs encouragement sometimes. That needs protection sometimes. Because a country built by hope cannot be driven by fear. Am I right? And a country founded on equality cannot allow hate to pull it apart. Are we right? We all have a stake in this beautiful idea of America. And we all have a responsibility to work for that promise. There's nothing this country cannot do when you work together as one."

Where Beck is at (also America)

Beck made the most of his opening slot with a crowd-pleasing trip through spirited renditions of his greatest hits and two highlights of “Colors,” the album he’s set to release in October, that effortlessly tapped into timelessness of “Where It’s At” while still sounding refreshingly like where it’s at today.

He’s always been an entertaining presence, from the first time I saw him at Lollapalooza. And it helps that he’s touring the States with a stellar assortment of backing musicians – including Jason Falkner and Roger Manning, Jr. of Jellyfish.

After setting the tone with the raucous groove of “Devil’s Haircut” and “Black Tambourine” – by which point I found myself frantically googling the name of his show-stopping drummer (Chris Coleman) – he reached back to the breakthrough track that briefly threatened to define him as a one-hit wonder, “Loser,” slipped a bit of Donna Summer’s heavy-breathing disco classic “I Feel Love” into “Think I’m Love,” and followed through a hard-hitting “Go It Alone.”

Then, Beck announced “We’re gonna play a couple quiet ones,” which is rarely a good thing to say in the opening slot on a stadium tour. But in this case, it worked like a charm because “Lost Cause,” from “Sea Change” and “Heart is Drum” from "Morning Phase" are just that good.

The undeniable groove of "Dreams" and the loopy rhymes of "Wow" made a strong case for "Colors" as one of those albums that inevitably get compared to "Odelay." After telling the fans, "All right, if you feel like headbanging to this one, feel free," he delivered a version of "E-Pro" that practically dared you not to bang your head. Then, he took out a blues harp and treated the hardcore fans to "One Foot in the Grave."

He brought his portion of the concert to a climax and a close with "Where It's At," an epic version that introduced the other musicians on stage via crowd-pleasing snippets of "Good Times" by Chic, "China Girl" by Iggy Pop and David Bowie (on which he changed the lyrics to "my little Jason Falkner"), Talking Heads' "Once in a Lifetime," Gary Numan's "Cars" and Phil Collins' "In the Air Tonight."

In a way, seeing Beck in that context was an odd fit. In a way, it was a perfect fit. There's really nothing to be gained by opening that kind of show with a set that seeks to tap into the same vibe U2 spent the night exploring. That's for them to do. The opener should entertain the crowd. And I can't of many artists who could hope to do a better job of that than Beck did